


On the Edge

by Jabberwocky (Sisterwives)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Edgeplay, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterwives/pseuds/Jabberwocky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Napoleon makes Hhectore angry. Sometimes it's intentional. (Literally just an excuse to write straight up shameless smut involving edging and sex toys, sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Edge

“Napoleon.”

“Mmm?” Napoleon answered from where he was wrapped around Hhectore’s neck, leaning over the back of the couch.

“I’m busy.” Hhectore just wanted to get his work done so he could watch _Game of Thrones_ that night, and he needed to finish his lesson plan on hand and power tools before then.

“Ughhhh,” Napoleon groaned, circling around the couch so he could flop down and rest his head on Hhectore’s lap. “Do you really have to do zat now, when you could be paying attention to me?”

“ _Yes_ , I really have to do this now,” Hhectore answered, attempting to be patient. He jostled his leg in an attempt to nudge his boyfriend off of him, but Napoleon wasn’t having it.

“Okay, but, consider zis…” Napoleon began, rolling over so that he could tug at Hhectore’s fly. “You could be doing me instead.”

“O _kay_ , but consider _this_ … I can do that after I’m done with my lesson plan. Just give me another hour,” Hhectore told him, pushing him away from his crotch.

Napoleon made a noise of dissatisfaction and flopped back over. “What eef I don’t want to wait?” he griped.

“Then too bad. I’m working.”

Thoroughly disgruntled now, Napoleon did something he wasn’t particularly proud of and batted the stack of papers out of Hhectore’s hands. They fluttered to the floor, and the ensuing silence was deafening.

Napoleon looked up, and as soon as he saw the look on Hhectore’s face, he realized that he had made a grave mistake. And yet, his heart skipped a beat at that murderous expression, because either he was going to be punished in the best way possible, or Hhectore would kick him out of the living room — and he _really_ hoped it was the former.

“Okay. You want attention? I’ll give you attention.” Hhectore stood up, dumping Napoleon out of his lap and onto the floor. He grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him upright, shoving him in the direction of their room.

“Are you going to—”

“No, shut up.” It was very rare for Napoleon to actually shut his mouth and be quiet, but he _liked_ this dangerous voice, displeasure simmering beneath the terse, even tone. Besides, he wanted to see where this would go, so he obeyed.

“Get undressed,” Hhectore said once they were in the bedroom, and a thrill of excitement shot up Napoleon’s spine.

In his haste to comply, he almost tripped trying to get out of his tight jeans. Hhectore, thankfully, didn’t witness his momentary lapse of gracefulness, having turned away to rummage through a black toolbox that Napoleon was _very_ well acquainted with (to the point that hearing the _ka-chunk_ of the lock triggered a Pavlovian response of instant arousal).

Napoleon sank down onto the bed, only to quickly stand up again when Hhectore made a noise of dissent in the back of his throat and pointed to a chair. He had hauled in the chair from the kitchen earlier that day so he could stand on it and go through the box on the top shelf of his walk-in closet (after all, the days were getting colder, and he needed his more seasonally-appropriate scarves). And he was suddenly very grateful that he was a lazy asshole and had ignored Hhectore when he had told him to bring it back into the kitchen.

Napoleon sat down, slipping a hand between his legs.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Hhectore ordered, still making his selection. Napoleon narrowed his eyes, not entirely unconvinced that Hhectore didn’t have eyes in the back of his head. Still, he begrudgingly complied and gripped the sides of his seat instead, if only because he knew that whatever Hhectore had in mind for him, it was bound to be better than his own bare hand.

Hhectore turned around, and Napoleon snickered at the sight of his favorite pair of handcuffs. He already liked where this was going. As he was being handcuffed to the chair, he sneaked a peek at what else was on the dresser. Hhectore couldn’t have spent all that time searching just to produce a pair of cuffs; they used them so frequently that they were almost always at the top of the bin.

One of their newest toys rested next to the industrial sized jug of lube (they went through it quickly – it was just practical for them to buy it in large quantities). It was an impulse buy, something they had snapped up when they found out it was on sale. They had lusted over the vibrating prostate massager for some time, but the original $210 price tag had always deterred them. They’d only used it once or twice since acquiring it, and it had been memorable, to say the least.

Napoleon’s toes curled into the floor when he thought about experiencing it again, and he tested the sturdiness of his handcuffs. They were as unyielding as ever. He spread his legs before he was told and lamented his current situation, because he wanted nothing more than to touch himself right now.

Just for a second, Hhectore’s stony expression cracked to reveal an amused smirk. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, and Hhectore sat down on the edge of the bed. He made no effort to remove his clothes, and Napoleon eyed him greedily, wishing he’d at least take off his shirt to give him a better show.

He opened his mouth, but Hhectore cut him off before he could even say anything. “Did I fucking say you could talk? I told you to shut up, remember?”

To his credit, Napoleon tried. He really did, and he was able to keep his mouth shut for longer than either of them had anticipated. That is, if you didn’t count the staccato gasps he let slip as Hhectore readied him. They weren’t entirely unintentional – he _was_ trying to provoke a reaction out of him. He wanted nothing more than for Hhectore to throw him on the bed and fuck him breathless, the toy buzzing away in his grip.

The vibrator had been a good deal, but experiencing it now, Napoleon could honestly say that he would have been willing to pay full price. It fit him like a glove, the curved shaft easily filling him up while the external arm nestled snug against his perineum. He sighed, content – but not too content, because Hhectore was still being maddeningly slow to pleasure him. He was ignoring him entirely, actually. Napoleon held his tongue, even as every fiber of his being stood on edge with anticipation, and his patience—a rarity in the bedroom, or anywhere, in fact—was rewarded.

Hhectore pressed a button on the toy's remote, and Napoleon's head lolled back, lips parted in a silent " _Oh_ " as the powerful dual motors hummed to life. Hhectore tossed the remote control onto the bedspread and leaned back on his palms to watch. His expression was inscrutable; Napoleon couldn't tell if he was still mad at him, he didn't know whether he was enjoying watching him in this state (but he had a pretty good guess), and he had no idea if he was planning on doing anything but stare at him like an asshole. It was frustrating.

He rocked on the vibrator, desperately trying to fuck himself. All his efforts did was put more pressure on his perineum, the bulb digging into the sweet spot below his balls with every roll of his hips. He was so okay with this – he didn't need to be fucked, the fullness and pressure and vibrations were enough to get him off, but _god,_ his cock was neglected. And suddenly, he couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"Touch me," he whined.

"What do you say?" Hhectore smirked, and Napoleon glowered at him.

"You're an asshole, and I hate you."

Hhectore hummed in dissent. "Nah, I don't think that's it," he said nonchalantly.

" _Ughhhh_." Sometimes Napoleon truly hated his boyfriend. "Please."

“That’s better.”

Hhectore wrapped his hand around his cock, and Napoleon outright moaned, a hum that flowed into one drawn out “Yessss…” This was better than anything he’d dared hope for when he was goading Hhectore. Vibrations deep inside him, the external pressure, and the sensation of Hhectore’s strong hand around him – it was too much, too fast, pleasure building up to a glorious crescendo.

“Don’t stop,” he purred, which was, in retrospect, a huge mistake. Under most circumstances, Hhectore would obey the command, spurred on by the encouragement. At times like this, however, he was prone to embrace his sadistic asshole side.

But that didn’t even occur to Napoleon. He was lost in the moment, thinking of nothing but a nonsensical stream of affirmations and cuss words as he neared his peak—

And then Hhectore’s hand was gone, leaving him teetering on the precipice of orgasm but denying him the final push needed to send him over the edge.

“ _God_ ,” he choked out, hips twitching up out of sheer need. He should have known that an irritated Hhectore wouldn’t let him get off that easily. “Keep going,” he ordered.

“I really don’t think you’re in a position to make demands.”

Napoleon locked eyes with Hhectore, but staring him down was no use. He grumbled under his breath—“ _Putain de merde”_ —fully aware that Hhectore had no idea what he was saying. If his boyfriend wouldn’t indulge him, he’d take matters into his own hands by grinding down against the vibrator. He had full faith in his ability to come hands-free, but he had been spoiled by the attention Hhectore had just lavished on him, and god _damn_ , he wanted more of that.

Hhectore, thankfully, had no intention of letting Napoleon get himself off. He pinned him to the chair with one hand, thumb digging in below his hipbone and pressing hard enough to bruise (the thought of the mark showing up the next day made Napoleon shiver with delight).

Hhectore’s fingers curled around him, and Napoleon relaxed into his familiar touch. Ten years together, and he still managed to reduce him to putty. If you had told him before he moved to the United States that he would sleep with only one person for ten years, he would have laughed uproariously. But here he was, with someone who knew him inside and out, who knew _everything_ he liked, and he wouldn’t change a thing. Right here, right now, he was in ecstasy.

And he was immensely grateful that he was sitting down, because he could feel his knees turn to jello at a well-timed twist of Hhectore’s wrist. This time, he did his utmost not to divulge how affected he was and concentrated on regulating his breathing. Inhale, exhale. Deep steady breaths. He needed to keep himself under control. It was easier said than done, especially when he was immobilized like this, which was both a blessing and a curse. The masochistic side of him loved being bound, loved being so completely and utterly under Hhectore’s control. And yet, the hedonist in him wanted nothing more than to be free, able to wrap his arms around Hhectore and claw at his back, able to force him to finish him off.

But that was wishful thinking. He couldn’t retaliate when Hhectore pulled away again; he could only groan and violently yank against those handcuffs.

“Are you _seriously_ doing zis to me right now?”

Hhectore grinned. “What? I thought you wanted me to pay attention to you?”

“Eet’s not enough,” Napoleon answered through grit teeth. He wanted to smack the smirk off his face, or kiss him. Both were tempting.

“No?”

“Or too much. I don’t know.”

Hhectore snickered and wrapped his hand loosely around Napoleon’s cock. “Schrödinger’s handjob. You can’t tell until you come.”

Napoleon would have laughed if he wasn’t so worked up. As it was, he managed some kind of shaky huff of air.

Hhectore’s hand was still except for the thumb rubbing over the head of his cock as he contemplated what to do next. Napoleon squirmed beneath him. To say that he was craving more would be a gross understatement, and he allowed himself the brief respite to fantasize a little. His eyes drifted shut as he imagined Hhectore wrapping his lips around him, sucking on the tip of his cock as he stroked his shaft.

He got so lost in the fantasy that he startled at the change of sensation as Hhectore shifted hands, surprised to find that there was no hot, wet mouth. That would have to wait for another time, and he wasn’t about to suggest it, because Hhectore wasn’t being very accommodating to his desires today.

Still, he couldn’t complain when Hhectore pulled the vibrator out just far enough to grip the handle and fuck him. His other hand kept time, matching each thrust with a powerful stroke that sent a shiver of lust through Napoleon’s body. It was rough and fast, just the way he liked it, and it dragged him right back to that edge, leaving him a breathless, squirming mess. He was so close, _so fucking close_ , and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. He’d learned his lesson about saying _anything_ when he was trapped in this cycle of orgasm denial, but Hhectore knew him well enough to tell when he was reaching his breaking point, and the reckless bucking of his hips and erratic breathing rate betrayed him. Gradually, Hhectore slowed down, nudging the vibrator back into place. He pressed on the base for good measure, ensuring that it was exactly where he wanted it, and Napoleon couldn’t hold back the breathy gasp that escaped his lips.

All at once, Hhectore pulled away, and Napoleon whimpered at the loss of contact. It was okay, he tried to tell himself, he still had the stimulation from the vibrator… and then, as if he could read his mind, Hhectore switched it off, leaving him bereft.

Napoleon swore profusely, yanking on the cuffs that bound him in a desperate attempt to give himself what Hhectore was withholding. It was a futile gesture, and he soon gave up, going limp against the chair and letting his eyes drift halfway closed.

Through heavy lidded eyes, he saw that Hhectore had only paused to get more lube. He wrapped a hand around the base of his glistening cock, slick with lube and desire, and resumed stroking. The smooth glide of his hand was nigh unbearable after all the torture Hhectore had put him through, and Napoleon hunched over in his chair.

“Fuck, fuck,” he gasped, straining against his shackles. “Oh, _fuck you_ , you asshole, just—”

Hhectore stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re insulting me now?” He let go and stood up, making for the doorway. “Fine, I’m leaving.”

“No no no no no,” he protested, panic flooding his words. “I’m sorry, come back.”

There was a moment of mild terror where he thought Hhectore was going to leave anyway, but he came back and sank down on the edge of the bed once more.

“You know I’m only staying because I love you, right? So watch it,” he said, and Napoleon nodded fervently. Hhectore picked up from where he left off, reactivating the vibrator with a click of the remote, just for good measure.

Napoleon gasped as the vibrations surged through him; coupled with the rhythmic tugging of Hhectore’s hand, they threatened to overwhelm him.

“Oh god, Hhectore, I’m gonna come,” he all but whimpered. “I can’t—”

“No,” Hhectore said, his voice firm. “You aren’t, and you can.”

At that, he really did whimper, toes curling into the carpet as he fought the desperate urge to give in.

“Deep breaths,” Hhectore reminded him.

Napoleon drew in a deep, shaky breath as Hhectore stroked him once more, drawing out another bead of precum. His fingernails dug into the palms of his fists, gouging white crescent moons into his skin. He’d hoped for another break to recompose himself, but Hhectore wasn’t so generous.

He endured a few more languorous strokes before he cracked. “Please,” he managed.

“Almost.” Hhectore said, and those were the sweetest two syllables that he had ever heard.

Hhectore pulled out the vibrator and replaced it with his fingers, curling them in a come hither motion that made Napoleon jerk his hips up.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself together, not with Hhectore inside of him. He was concentrating so hard on staving off his climax that he didn’t hear Hhectore speak.

“I said, ‘now,’ Napoleon,” he repeated, his voice gentle.

It took a moment for him to realize what that meant, but once it registered, he fell apart in seconds. All that denial and longing had built up inside of him, and he came harder than he had in a long time, riding out his climax with each thrust of Hhectore’s fingers.

When he came down from the endorphin rush, he was panting from exertion, but utterly blissed out. Hhectore pulled away from him, and he exhaled, sinking into the chair and letting his head flop back.

“You’re welcome,” Hhectore said as he stood up. He leaned down to kiss his brow. “Now leave me alone so I can finish my work.” He flicked off the light switch and exited the bedroom, leaving Napoleon in the dark, hands still tied behind him.


End file.
